Twisted Mumbles Poetryby jeseca Lowell

I have always been a simple girl with the occasional complication.I just wanted to love and be loved without confusing it with the politics of lifebut the innocence of that pony tailed girl got confused along the way.I learned that even the most gentle soul had the ability to destroyand the most breath taking sunrise did always mean a new beginning.The love became tainted, lost in a blanket of hurt, and then I just locked it awaybecause the world left that little girl crying when she stepped into it.For years, I was a stone, incapable of making any real connections,always believing those faces staring back at me were just waiting to pounce.I stayed away, locked myself up between lines that I knew wouldn't hurt me.I felt no remorse about cutting myself off from the possibilities that were beyond paperbut at night, alone in my darkness, I would hear that pony tailed girl sob.I could feel the pain, the pain I had been running from, and I would shatter.I could no longer reach her, pushed her too far back inside myself.So life took me by surprise, heard the tears I wouldn't aknowledge in the daylight,and planted a child inside my womb, gave me back my heart, gave me back my spirit.And when I stared into that baby's beautiful eyes that pony tailed girl was free once again.I felt her close to me and I knew we had both just been saved.I knew whatever I was going to be as a woman was now going to be brilliant.As I watch my little girl grow into a woman, I become stronger.All of the broken pieces I once was have formed the beautiful imperfection that is me.And when I look in the mirror, I no longer see the girl I thought I lost,I see the woman, simple and complicated, and the pony tailed girl all in one piece.

Silently I feel her fingers slip back into mine,a forgotten glove that I had thought was lost.I feel her warm smile pour back in behind my lips.I know.Hiding in my shadows, she has been waiting for me to stand,whispering in my ear when I felt faint.I covered her beauty to protect her, to keep her safe,because I was afraid she would be crushed again.I didn't know if tragedy struck again if she would make itbut she was always much stronger then I was.Still she waited patiently.Slowly she refilled my heart, healed our wounds, cradled our scars.

I used to pick up the phone and imagine you were on the other end,asking me how my day was, that you missed me, that you were a fool.I would tell you about all the mistakes you made and laugh in some comical waybut your ghosts have all left me now, banished to where memories die.I used to think that maybe one day I'd visit your grave,leave some yellow roses for you like you used to on my carand talk about all those times you were never there.Together we weren't any good but I think we knew that even back then.You were my spark and I was a forest fire you never meant to set.For a moment, for one brilliant moment, I thought I would die without you.I thought you were the answer to all my problems but you were problem all alongand I was always my own solution.

You were always silent on the other end of that phone lineno matter how hard I tried to imagine some soul mending conversation.Your silence should have told me everything I refused to hearand it did eventually... it did eventually...Truth is I don't hate you anymore, don't even know you anymore.I don't pick up that phone desperately wanting to hear you breath,crossing my fingers that you haven't forgotten me.I remember you told me once that you couldn't imagine a day without me.I laughed and called you a liar, telling I was never really herebut you just put your fair in your face, stomped around in disgust with meand I flew away like I always did, untouched by your fake concern.

If I eat that pancake, it will sit on my hips, attach to my thighsand hide the womanly curve that men eye.A doughnut forever my safety net to keep the world awayor else I may be pushed into a corner, pinned down to doom.I would rather suffocate myself with cupcakes.

He saw my spark, my beautiful, youthful spark and dimmed me for years.Vowing to never be the object of a man's infatuation again, I made myself a shield.No man would want a fat chick with multiple chins.

Through the years, I held on tight to my armorbecause without it I felt too vulnerable.Now after all these years, this fear fades.I no longer need to wrap myself in bacon to protect me.

It is hard to see the break of day in the dead of night,when the world looks bleak, the possibilities are slim to none.I walked a path, my path along among the whispering hopeless,content with my silent companions cradling me with doubt.I had no misconceptions, misunderstandings, false hopethat beyond that horizon a brighter day would be waiting for me.Little girl fancies had long since left me, delusions of sparkling pumpkins no more,and men that were once mice, the idea of my very own fairy godmother.I had become comfortable covered in ashes in my own little corner.The world was full of plot twists that always broke my heart, tried my spiritbut then a little piece of light fell upon my tear stained cheek, just a speck.He was just a vision, some sort of glitch in my system.Out that door he would walk, I knew it, once he saw the soot didn't wash off,that behind my snowy white complexion and deer like eyes my pieces were torn.He fought the dragons, the ones I had sent to defend my solitude.He never flinched when I threw poison.He proved all of my insecurities wrong one by one every time.He was the break of day I never thought would come,the prince in the pumpkin that I never thought was there.

I have tried to publish for so long and getting a lot of nowhere. Either I can't find a publisher or all the self publishing companies are just ridiculously expensive. So why not try this? I would love to share my thoughts with the world. I have notebooks upon notebooks, loose pieces of paper, journals full of words that I have been otherwise unable to share with the world. So here we go. Maybe no one will see this. Maybe one person will find me. And maybe millions of you out there will stumble across me. Either way, I am at least doing something with all the strings of words that my poetic mind has put together. Here we go.